


Last Nail in the Coffin

by SoulofaWinchester67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:50:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulofaWinchester67/pseuds/SoulofaWinchester67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Dean telling you that he'd rather you take your anger out on him rather than keeping it bundled up inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Nail in the Coffin

 I collapsed onto the lumpy motel sofa, eyes shut and head back. My body ached from head to toe, and I was coated in a film of dirt, dust, grime, and blood. It felt like my hair had been drenched in muck and it was just dripping down onto the rest of me. In short, I felt disgusting. Not to mention every part of me was seething with anger, but I was using every bit of remaining strength to keep it bottled up. I wasn't about to explode at either of the boys because I'd screwed up on a hunt. Again.

Revenants were easy enough to gank. Nail that sucker back into its coffin with a silver stake and bury the bastard. Bam, done. This last hunt had gone by the book up until the very end. Some podunk town out in New Mexico, way out in the boonies where all there really was, was cows. Cows, farms, weeds, and cacti. It was the kind of town that was five miles from anything that remotely resembled civilization.

The only news that had been going around out there was the tragic death of a teenager. He'd been a twin. Those two boys had done absolutely everything together, from joining the same teams at school to even taking the same classes. You never saw one without the other, from what the boys and I gleaned after we'd started asking around, posing as Park Rangers. The boy had been killed while out on a hiking trip with his family at Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument. One miss step and he'd gone tumbling down the cliff. No chance of survival.

Their names had been Harrison and Hal. Harrison had taken the fall. Hal hadn't been able to live without his brother, so he'd brought him back. But revenants are dangerous, and pretty soon Harrison was going around, killing everyone who had ever tried to keep him from his brother. He was just getting started when we'd rolled into town. Hal had agreed to help us do away with his brother, and he'd played as bait in the cemetery while the boys and I waited in the cover of trees and bushes for Harrison to walk into our trap.

And he had. It had taken all three of us to bring him down. Ultimately it was Dean who staked him, but Sam and I had a time keeping him pinned down in the coffin. We were all in the grave, trying to make sure Harrison stayed dead this time, when we'd heard Hal scream.

I'd scrambled out of the grave and met a sight that didn't make any sense. Hal was being held back at the throat against someone who looked exactly like him, only deader. And Harrison was nailed in his plot behind me.

“I thought you knew we were triplets!” The sound of that hoarse, gravelly voice was still giving me chills.

Triplets. Fucking, triplets. I'd been the one who had told the boys about the twins. None of us had a clue that there were three brothers. Hal was crying to his other brother, begging him not to kill him.

“Please, Henry! This isn't you, this isn't-”

Hal hadn't gotten another word out, because Henry had snapped his neck and dove straight for me. He'd slammed me straight in the gut into a tombstone, and after I came to, I saw Sam nailing Henry into Harrison's grave.

God damned _triplets._

Dean chucked the duffel bag full of our crap onto the bed, snapping me back to reality, and rubbed his face. Sam was out in town, grabbing food for us. I could physically feel the tension between us now. It clogged up the air in the room like smog.

“All right, let me have it,” I finally said, opening my eyes and leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees and looking up at him. He looked back, brow furrowing.

“What?”

“Let me have it. Scream at me, something.” I paused, getting up. There was too much adrenaline still pumping in my veins. “Hal Anderson is dead because of me and we both know it.”

Dean was silent for a moment before he spoke. “You want me to get mad at you because all three of us screwed up? No.”

Now it was my turn to be confused.

“I want you to get angry. Come on Kat, get angry!” He was almost shouting. I stood there in the archway to the kitchen, looking at him. He took a step forward and pushed me in the arm. “Get pissed, damn it!”

“Dean, what the hell are you talking about? I am angry.”

“No, Kate, you're not. You're fucking calm as can be, and it's gotta stop.”

“Why? Isn't it a good thing that I'm not having a mental break down right now?”

Dean groaned, throwing his hands up in the air and turning away from me. He paced out past the beds in the other part of the room and I watched him. Suddenly, he spun around and glared at me.

“Throw something! Get pissed! Stop bottling it up, because one day you're gonna be so angry and so impulsive that you're gonna get hurt!”

“Dean, I can't just-”

“Hell, punch me! Take it out on me, I don't care, just _take it out._ I'm practically begging you here Kat, please. All that anger, it's gonna get you killed!”

“Dean!” It was the first time I'd actually shouted since this conversation had began.

He just stopped and looked at me, chest heaving.

“Just stop, okay? I'm not gonna take it out on you, all right? It's not gonna happen!”

Without warning Dean took one long step toward me and pulled my face to his, locking his lips on mine. He kissed me hard, and I almost forgot to breathe in the span of it. I sucked in a shocked breath when he pulled back, holding my face in his hands.

“I just wanna know you're okay. I don't want you to have to hide all this crap when you're around me, all right? You can talk to me.”

I stared at him, shocked that he was suddenly devoid of anger and full of sensitivity and kindness. But that was Dean, and I should have figured that was his motive behind yelling at me. I nodded to him and wrapped my arms around him, mumbling into his chest, “I'm sorry.”

“ 's okay Kit Kat,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head and holding me close.

I took a deep breath and pulled back a little, peering up at him. “I need a drink,” I stated. His arms slid off of me and he smiled.

“I support that.”

I just shook my head and walked into the kitchen, feeling considerably better than I had when we'd made it back to the motel.


End file.
